Location: Palace of the Secret Services, New World Order. Ministry of Secret Services and People’s Control. Westminster District, London.
Time: 01.08.23 — 18:00 UTC.
Setting: Inside the main office of Arkan Solem, seat of the supreme authority of the Ministry of Secret Services.
Evening stretched its shadows across the room, and the light filtering through the windows brushed the treetops and tinged the foul, shallow waters of the Thames red. Big Bang had just struck six. Arkam Solem opened a drawer beside his broad, curved desk and pulled a small mechanical lever protruding from its base. A dull clank of gears followed — no electronic system involved. A concealed door slid open, revealing a secret staircase. From the office, it was impossible to see where it led; it seemed to descend endlessly into the depths.
Several minutes passed.
A figure finally appeared at the top of the stairs and stepped inside.
She was young, rather tall, with ice-blue eyes and blond hair. She wore a red training outfit: a sleeveless top exposing her shoulders and bright red shorts. Her skin gleamed with sweat, as though she had just stopped an intense workout. The muscles in her arms and legs showed the strength of someone shaped by rigorous military conditioning.
Arkam Solem looked at her, making little effort to hide his satisfaction — or his interest.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Well, HSP984. I see you were training, and it seems I’ve interrupted you.”
“At your orders, sir.”
“Good, good. You’ve been trained well. But the training is over now — your first mission begins.”
“Glad to obey, sir.”
“Come here. Closer.”
HSP984 moved forward after a brief hesitation, which did not go unnoticed.
“They tell me you follow orders without delay.”
“Yes, sir.”
“See this?” Arkam Solem held up the sheet of codes copied from the book.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’ll recover this book. We don’t yet know what it’s for, but you will find out.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“The mission needs to be quick. Time is short.”
“I’m at your disposal, sir.”
“Mmmh… truly at my disposal. Yes, come here. I want to see just how obedient you really are.”
She hesitated again — longer this time.
“I told you to come here.”
A bell rang, breaking Arkam Solem’s attempt to approach her.
“Who is it?” he snapped.
“Guard Service,” a voice replied, as a WO officer stepped in, dressed in a white uniform bearing the WO emblem.
“The escort has arrived, sir. They report there’s no time. A commercial flight will take the girl to her destination — departure in two hours. The documents are here as well.”
“Let me see. Thank you, lieutenant.” Arkam Solem took the papers. “The operative may leave now. She’ll receive instructions during the flight.”
Then, turning to her: “This is your new identity. You now serve the WO with the rank of lieutenant. Your name will be Genevieve — Genevieve de Villeneuve. No one must know your origin. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” said HSP984, visibly relieved by the interruption. “At your orders, sir.”
“Very well, very well. Now go — but we shall meet again. Go… and don’t disappoint me.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“In three days, you will be back here with the book. You will seize it and bring it directly to me. Once you discover its contents — and any clue that might explain its purpose — report it at once to your escort: they are linked directly to my ministry’s AI. I shall receive every update immediately. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go.”
Arkam Solem watched them as they left the room.